All the Sweet Tomorrows

by Bertrice Small

  “And by what means, Sir Christopher, are you to escort me? I see no coach, nor do I see horses. Am I to walk, perhaps, behind your horse like a Roman captive?”

  Hatton shifted uncomfortably, realizing he had forgotten to provide transport.

  Skye laughed easily. “Do not fret, Sir Christopher. I have full intention of hieing myself to Greenwich as quickly as possible, but I have only just arrived after a hectic voyage. I am going to my house on the Strand to bathe and change my clothes before I see Her Majesty. I will not present myself before the Queen until then, unless, of course, you have orders to drag me before Her Majesty immediately.”

  He had no such orders, and Hatton was totally nonplussed by this beautiful woman who seemed so in command of the situation. “Of course, Lady Burke …”

  “Lady de Marisco, my lord.”

  “I was given to understand that you were the widow of Lord Niall Burke, madam.” Sir Christopher was further confused.

  “Indeed, sir, and I am, but Lord Burke died some time back, and I remarried. Lord de Marisco is my husband, and has been for two and a half years now.” Skye smiled sweetly. “Would you care to come with us to Greenwood, my lord? If the Queen has ordered you to bring us to her you had best not appear back before her without us. I will be happy to send a message to your men on shore.”

  The door to the main cabin opened, and Adam came in. “The barge is here, sweetheart.”

  “Well, Sir Christopher? Are you coming with us?”

  “I can as easily ride, madame, if you will but tell me where Greenwood is located.”

  “It is on the river, next to the Earl of Lynmouth’s house.”

  “I will meet you there,” Sir Christopher said, and then he beat a hasty retreat.

  Adam waited until he was sure the captain had gotten off the ship, and then he chuckled. “You’ve frightened him to death, Skye. Not an easy task under normal circumstances, I would imagine.”

  “I see that though the Queen still enjoys the virgin state her taste in handsome young men has not changed,” Skye muttered.

  “The rumor is that he dances divinely,” Adam guffawed.

  “Perhaps,” Skye said, “but there is a good mind, I’ll wager, behind those beautiful eyes of his. Bess Tudor does not suffer fools within her inner circle.” With an impatient gesture she picked up her cloak. “Let us go, Adam. Even though I know that our Velvet is safe, I want to know what this is all about. Where are the children?”

  “Gone on ahead in the first barge,” he answered her, slipping the cape over her shoulders. Bending, he held her a moment against him, and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll soon have our little one back.”

  The Greenwood barge took them swiftly up the river to Skye’s London town house. Mignon had been left behind in France with Guillaume, for they were too old to travel to England, and belonged at Archambault, where both had been born and spent their whole lives. I shall have to train a new tiring woman, Skye thought irritably as they arrived at the landing, but who was that coming down the lawn wildly waving?

  “M’lady! M’lady! Oh, dear Mistress Skye, welcome home!”

  Skye stopped, and her eyes teared briefly as Daisy came running up to her. For a moment the two women stared at each other, and then they were hugging frantically. “What on earth are you doing here, Daisy?” she exclaimed.

  They broke apart, and Daisy explained, “When Dame Cecily told me that you were coming home I knew you would need me, m’lady. Old Mistress Kelly, Bran’s mum, came to live with us over a year ago when her man died and the English landlord took her cottage. My babes have given her a new lease on life. ’twas she who insisted I come up to London. The youngest baby’s weaned, and don’t need me anymore. Come along now, for you’ve been at sea several days and I know you’ll want your bath.” She turned her gap-toothed smile on Adam. “I’ve brought with me that pirate, Kipp, who always served you on Lundy, m’lord. They took everyone off the island, y’know.”

  “Good Lord,” Adam exclaimed, “I didn’t think they’d touch my people. What happened to them, Daisy?”

  “The bailiff at Lynmouth made room, m’lord.”

  They had gained the house now, and as they climbed the stairs Skye said, “I’ll have to hurry a bit, Daisy, for the Queen is expecting me even now.”

  “Ah,” Daisy smiled, “I knew you’d be back in her favor quick enough.”

  Entering her apartments, Skye said grimly, “I’m not in the Queen’s good graces at all, Daisy, and I’d not be in England except that she stole our daughter. Oh, Daisy, wait until you see Velvet de Marisco! She is the most perfect little girl!”

  “But why would she steal your child, m’lady?” Daisy began to undress her mistress.

  “She seems to want my help in some matter, Daisy, and felt I would not give it to her unless she had some sort of strong hold over me. She will not recognize my marriage to Lord de Marisco because we did not ask her permission, but it has mattered not to us. We have a beautiful home, Belle Fleurs, in France. I did not think the Queen could touch us.”

  Daisy frowned. “I wonder,” she mused aloud.

  “What do you wonder?” Skye replied, climbing into the perfumed tub and settling down into the water.

  “I’m wondering if it’s about your brothers.”

  “Tell me what you know, Daisy.”

  “They’re wild, m’lady, every one of them. I’ve heard Bran say it a dozen times a day. When you ran your family the O’Malleys prospered, and kept the peace; but your brothers have almost run through everything you built up for them, and they harry the English each chance they get. They deliberately bait them, m’lady, and taunt them something fierce, and you know the difficulties in Ireland are bad enough without that. Their mother, the lady Anne, has tried to control them, but she hasn’t the strength. They laugh at her advice, and then gift her with things they’ve stolen from their raids and tell her not to worry, but she does fret and she’ll not keep a thing they give her. Still, there is naught that she can do about them. They are too strong for her.”

  Skye nodded with understanding. Her brothers were proud and stubborn Irishmen with hot heads and no sense. She had left their raising to their mother, for it was indeed Anne’s responsibility after Dubhdara O’Malley died, but Anne O’Malley was a gentle woman with a kind heart who had no real strength of her own.

  “What have the O’Malleys been doing to irritate the Queen. Daisy? It can’t simply be that my fool half-brothers have reverted to the piracies of my father.”

  “Bran says they’ve joined with your kinswoman, Grace O’Malley, to fight the English,” came the reply.

  “Fools!” Skye muttered.

  “She’s a fascinating woman, Bran says.”

  “She is indeed,” Skye said. “She’s from the nobler and more powerful branch of my family, the O’Malleys of Clare Island. She’s even married to a Burke, as I was. Her husband is a distant cousin of Niall’s. She’s a dangerous woman, though, Daisy. She believes herself a patriot. She’s fought the English since her youth, and I’ve no doubt she’ll fight them right to the moment of her death. In one sense I admire her courage and her determination; but I have a cooler head than Grace, and she cannot win over England no matter the right of her cause. She does not see this, however, and if she were only responsible for her own life I should not argue how she live it; but she drags others into her schemes. If Elizabeth Tudor wants my aid in preventing my brothers from joining with Grace O’Malley then she shall have it, Daisy. I will not allow them to destroy everything I have worked and sacrificed for since our father, may God assoil him, left the responsibility of the O’Malleys of Innisfana to me!”

  Daisy said nothing, but she saw the gleam of battle in her mistress’s eyes. With a hidden smile she washed Skye’s hair, thinking that it was good to be back here with her lady. She loved her bairns, but wiping their runny noses and wet bottoms was dull stuff compared to serving Skye O’Malley.

&nb
sp; There was a knock at the door, and a housemaid appeared to say, “Sir Christopher Hatton awaits you, m’lady.”

  “Tell Sir Christopher that I am in my bath,” Skye said mischievously, “and that I shall attend him eventually. Then see that he and his men have plenty of wine, beef, and bread.”

  “Yes, m’lady!” The housemaid bobbed a curtsey, and was gone.

  “It will be at least two hours before you’re ready,” Daisy said.

  “I make it closer to three,” Skye said calmly, and the tiring woman giggled.

  “You’ll want to eat while your hair is drying.”

  “Aye, but sparingly. Enough to take the edge off my appetite so that my stomach doesn’t grumble while I’m with the Queen, but not enough to spoil my appetite should we be asked to stay for the evening meal.”

  “Bread, cheese, and some good Devon cider, m’lady?”

  “Aye, and a bit of ham too, Daisy. Bring enough for two, for my lord will be hungry also.”

  Daisy helped Skye from the tub, and carefully and thoroughly dried her mistress off before wrapping her in a long quilted velvet gown to ward off the chill of the autumn afternoon. Next she toweled all the water from Skye’s hair, and settled her mistress by the fireplace to brush her own locks dry while she hurried downstairs to the kitchens to fetch the food. When Adam came through the connecting door between their rooms, Skye never even looked up as she continued brushing her hair by the fire.

  “You’re glad to be back in England, aren’t you,” she said, hearing his soft, happy humming.

  “Aye, sweetheart,” he admitted, coming to sit across from her. He loved watching her do simple feminine things.

  “I’ve sent Daisy for food. Hatton and his men already wait below, but I’ll not come down until I’m clean and fed. If I have to deal with the Queen I’d best do it from a position of strength. Daisy thinks it’s my brothers. The four of them have managed to run through the wealth I spent years building up for the O’Malleys, and now they’ve joined forces with my hotheaded kinswoman, Grace O’Malley, to harry the English.”

  “They’ve not their older sister’s wisdom,” he said quietly.

  “Ah, Adam,” she answered, “I would have the English out of Ireland too, but I know that it will take more than the O’Malleys to do it. That is the problem with the Irish. They cannot unite, and as long as they can’t, the English will hold Ireland whether the Irish desire it or not. It is our weakness, my love, for Ireland is a land where every man is a king. I am not the stuff of which martyrs or heroines are made, and I’ll not sacrifice everything I’ve fought for and built up for that elusive will-o’-the-wisp called Irish independence. Even if they got it there’s not one man they could all agree on to make king. Right now the Irish aren’t even serious in what they do. ’Tis the fighting they enjoy. No matter the widows and orphans they make. No matter the misery they cause, the famine, the children dying from lack of decent shelter. All that counts for naught in the face of glorious battle with those who sporadically lead the rebellions. They switch sides with the regularity of a whore entertaining her customers; each of them always seeking a better position over his neighbor, and joining with his neighbor’s enemies if he can’t maintain his own superiority alone. ’Tis a wicked game, Adam, and I’ll have none of it!”

  “But if you openly join with the English, Skye, your own people will consider you a traitor. They are too simple to understand the complexities of the situation. Do you understand that, sweetheart?”

  “I have no intention of joining the English, Adam. I am the O’Malley of Innisfana, no matter my half-brothers. They cannot take from me that which our father gave me. They must obey me or be oudawed among their own, and I do not believe that they have the stomach for being cast out by their own people. What I shall do will have nothing to do with politics, be they English or Irish. What I do I will do for the survival of my family, and that is all.”

  “Will you tell the Queen that?” he asked, amused.

  Skye laughed softly. “Let Bess Tudor think what she will, for I shall not let her know that I intend to stop my brothers no matter what. If she thinks I do her a service, so much the better for us, Adam.”

  “You don’t intend to be one bit repentant about us, do you?” Adam’s dark eyebrows waggled with amusement.

  “What difference should our marriage have made to her?” Skye demanded irritably. “Neither you nor I are of any importance to the English Crown dynastically. We have never been permanent members of the court. The only time I followed the court was when Geoffrey was alive. She may say whatever she will, but she has no excuse for denying our marriage or calling our daughter a bastard. We were married by a priest of the Holy Catholic Church, and though the Queen may deny the Church dominion in England before her own authority, she has never denied the right of the Mother Church in spiritual matters, no matter the Protestants and their clamor.”

  “What a pity,” Adam said, “that you and Elizabeth Tudor cannot be friends. You have that sharpness of intellect that the Queen admires.”

  “She needs too much fawning upon, Adam, and I have not the patience. Neither have you, for that matter. Would you really enjoy spending your days dancing in constant attendance upon a very stubborn lady in her middle years? She would give us no time for ourselves, Adam, and I, for one, could not abide that.” Skye gave her head a final touch, and putting the brush aside, she flung her hair back with a graceful motion. “There,” she said, “ ’Tis finished, and I hear Daisy coming. Open the door for her, my darling.”

  With pleased confusion and a rosy blush Daisy re-entered the bedchamber carrying a heavy tray of food. “Oh, m’lord! Thank you!”

  “ ’Tis nothing, lass, and it is good to see your pretty face again,” he answered the tiring woman gallantly.

  Daisy flushed again with pleasure, and said, “I’ve brought cider for you, m’lady, but I knew his lordship would appreciate some good nut-brown English ale. ’Tis a while, I’ll wager, since he’s tasted it.” She set the tray down on the table by the fireplace as they drew their chairs forward.

  “Daisy, lass, you’ve the soul of an angel and the heart of a loyal Englishwoman!” Adam exclaimed. “My stepfather may bottle some of France’s finest wines, but I far prefer honest English ale! Thank you, lass!” he said, and bending from his great height, he gave her a hearty buss on the cheek.

  “Ohh, m’lord!” Daisy grew redder, and then she scolded, “Sit down, m’lord, and eat. The Queen will be in a fine, tearing temper as it is.”

  The tray that Daisy had brought them contained thick slices of bread upon which had been set slices of pink ham and wedges of good English Cheddar that had then been toasted. The cheese was yet soft and burning, and the meal delicious to their taste in its simplicity. When the last crumb had been eaten and the ale and cider all drunk, they sat back for a minute in their chairs, smiling across the small table at one another. Another knock at the door brought them the news that Sir Christopher and his men were growing restive.

  “I suppose we must get dressed and attend the Queen,” Skye said.

  “I think so, little girl,” Adam replied, rising from the table and walking across the room to the connecting door between their rooms. With a grin he blew her a kiss before re-entering his own quarters.

  A delighted smile touched her lips, and then Skye rose with a lazy yawn. “Is the black sapphire gown still in fashion, Daisy?”

  “Aye, m’lady. I’ll fetch it immediately.”

  It took almost a full hour for Skye to dress completely, but when she had finished she was well pleased with the results. The blue velvet of the gown was so dark it seemed almost black in color. It had a low, squarish neckline trimmed with two loops of pearls that were sewn in such a fashion as to outline her bosom. From the sides of the neckline protruded a fan-shaped neckwisk of delicate gold lace, and the full gold beribboned sleeves had beautiful matching cuff ruffs of the same lace. The overgown was plain, the undergown of the same material and c
olor, heavily decorated in pearls, gold beads, and golden threads that had been sewn in an intricate pattern of flowers, bees, and butterflies. The bodice was done more simply, being decorated only with pearls.

  Skye’s hair was gracefully fixed by Daisy into its elegant chignon, and dressed with loops of almost pinkish pearls. She wore a strand of matching pearls about her neck, from which bobbed one enormous sapphire teardrop that nestled between her full breasts. There were pearls in her ears, and even her dainty handkerchief was edged in the jewels. The buckles on her velvet shoes were carved from mother of pearl, and her heels had been covered in the iridescent shell.

  With a smile Skye pirouetted for her husband as he entered the bedchamber. “What think you, m’lord? Am I formidable enough to discomfit the Queen?”

  “Aye, little girl, and make her jealous as well.” He struck a pose. “And what of me, madam? Do you approve my costume. Am I fit to be by your side?”

  “Aye, m’lord!” she said with heartfelt admiration, taking in his black velvet costume, the doublet of which was outrageously and heavily decorated in diamonds and gold thread. About his neck Adam had chosen to wear the de Marisco pendant, a large, round golden medallion with a raised sea hawk, wings spread, done in enameled colors with a ruby eye. Between his great size and the complete fashion of his costume he was really quite magnificent.

  “Are you ready, madam?” he demanded, noting with some amusement that despite the richness of her jewels, she had chosen to wear upon her hands only his betrothal and wedding rings. Her subtlety delighted him, and he knew the Queen would notice, for Elizabeth Tudor rarely missed a thing.

  As he watched them descend the staircase to the main floor of the house, Sir Christopher Hatton caught his breath. They were a simply stunning pair, and the Queen’s captain could not help but wonder why they had never been to court in his time. He caught Skye’s hand as she reached the bottom step, and raising it to his lips, he said with total honesty, “Madam, you are more than well worth the waiting for, if, my lord de Marisco, you will allow me the compliment to your wife.”